


Purple// Klance

by quumie



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Eventual Romance, F/M, Keith’s x lance, Lance x Keith, M/M, Mutal Pining, Other, Pining matt rip, klance, klance dance, klance dance au, shallura - Freeform, shatt ???, so hard to chose why
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-02
Updated: 2018-01-01
Packaged: 2019-01-28 15:04:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 7,653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12609304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quumie/pseuds/quumie
Summary: klance dance au ;0history is made when keith falls asleep on the shoulder of a stranger during a flight to new york~





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> hey! it’s quiznak from wattpad. we’re putting ‘Purple’ on ao3 now. enjoy!  
> (don’t be afraid to come and say hi to us!!  
> ig: @legendaryklance (me) & @quiznakt )  
> -fen

Keith sighed as he got up from the hard plastic chair, he had been waiting in the air port for 2 hours, and his bottom was starting to hurt. Candy Crush starts to get boring after 2 hours, there's only so much you can do without wifi.

Keith stretched his arms up in the air, his shirt pulling up a little. You could see his belly button and V line.

Keith could feel someone staring at him. Putting his arms down, he looked around. There was a lady with her husband, a lot of people with their phones/books in there faces, some sleeping. His eyes stopping at a red faced tanned boy with head phones around his neck, the boy was wearing a green hoodie, some dark blue jeans and some blue high top shoes. And he was staring right at Keith. As soon as he noticed Keith he quickly looked away. 

"What a weirdo.." Keith mumbled to himself.

Keith himself was wearing his favourite red hoodie, dark jeans, and some adidas shoes. His choice of the perfect traveling cloths.

A monotone voice filled the room "All passengers for New York please head to door A1."

That was Keith's flight, not having been able to sit down again, Keith grabbed his suit case and his two carry on bags and made his way to door A1.

*** 

Keith found his seat, C1. He was three rows from the front and the seat closest to the walk way. He looked around, this was a pretty small plane, only two seats on either side and no first class. 

Now just noticing how tired he was, Keith settled down after putting his bags into the carry on, leaving one at his side. Getting ready for his long flight from Seattle to New York. He would need all the rest he could get before he got to the Big Apple.

Keith was going to compete in a hip-hop competition, he was going to start small and make his way to the big leagues.

He felt himself drift off into sleep and a tanned figure hurried into the seat beside him.

Lance hurried into the plane, fearing they would forget him behind, he had rushed into the bathroom after seeing a guy stretch, in a strange way, it made him feel something..

"C2, C2" he mumbled under his breath.

Once he had gotten to his seat, he almost fell over, it was the guy. Lance hurriedly put his stuff in the space above as the announcement to put your seat belts came on. He had made it just in time.

If he had missed his flight, he wouldn't have been able to go the the hip hop event in New York.

As Lance was deep in thought, not noticing the boy beside him that was slowly falling asleep.  
When he did snap out of his trance, it was because he felt a weight on his shoulder. Gasping he slowly turned and looked at the sleeping man on his shoulder.

Lance felt his face growing hot, but he didn't dare move.

That was until later on in the flight when the man started to whimper in his sleep.


	2. 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> trigger warning: abuse/ homophobia

A younger Keith, about 15 years old, was happily walking home hand in hand with his favourite person in the world. He gazed at the boy next to him with immense fondness. The blushing boy with blond hair met his gaze. 

“Do you think you're parents will like me?” He asked nervously. Keith nodded enthusiastically. 

“They'll love you, because I love you,” he said, kissing the boys cheek briefly. He tried to sound reassuring, but really his parents didn't know he was gay, and he had no idea how they were going to react. 

As they arrived at Keith’s house, the only thing he could focus on was the growing rate of his heartbeat. 

“Mom? Dad? I'm home… and I have someone I'd like you to meet.”

Keith's father was a tall, heavy, outspoken, man with a menacing stare, which only made this harder. Keith's mother, on the other hand, was a timid and caring person.  
Keith took a deep breath. Before he spoke, he noticed the empty beer cans by his father's living room chair, but it was too late to change his mind now. 

“This is my boyfriend, Leo,” Keith said, confidently. Apparently a few months of constant inner turmoil was enough to give him the courage when the time came. 

The first thing he noticed was his mother's frightened glance towards his father, who remained silent, refusing to make eye contact with anyone except the floor. 

“Keith…” began his mother. His father’s hand shot out, slapping his mother before she could say more. 

“Dad!” Keith shouted, staring incredulously at his father. 

“You,” his father sneered, pointing at Leo, “get out of my house.”

Leo hesitated as Keith tightened his grip on the other boy’s hand. 

“Now!” His father bellowed. 

Leo pulled his hand from Keith, who was reluctant to let go. 

“Leo, don't go,” Keith pleaded, tears filling his eyes. He was scared. His mother was on the floor. His only friend was about to leave him. 

The blond haired boy glanced at his boyfriend, then at his boyfriend's father. 

“I'm sorry Keith,” he whispered before dashing out the front door, away from certain danger. 

Keith looked at his father, who was now looming above his, alcohol evident in his breath. Keith felt a sharp pain in his jaw as his father punched him harshly, causing him to fall to the ground. He cried out as his father kicked him in the stomach continuously, shouting curse words and slurs at him. 

Keith's mother was back on her feet now, try to pull his father away. She was screaming at him to stop. Keith's vision was becoming blurry. He could taste blood, but he wasn't sure where it was coming from. It was salty too. He was crying. 

Keith watched from the floor at his father picked up an empty glass bottle from the kitchen counter. Keith only realized to late that his father was about to swing at his mom. 

“Stop!” He shrieked, as the bottle crashed into the side of his mother's head. He was screaming now too. 

His father turned back to look at him, a raging hatred burning in his eyes. He took a step towards Keith and-- 

*Lance's POV* 

Lance had just gotten used to the weight on his shoulder (and the strange whimpering) when he felt something drip on his arm. Was this random man drooling on him?! He looked down. Nope, not drool.  
“Dude, wake up, you're crying,” he said, awkwardly shaking the man into consciousness. 

“Stop!” Shouted the dark haired man, startling Lance. The man sat straight up in his seat, opening his eyes. He was silent for a few moments, looking frantically at his surroundings. He met Lance's eyes. 

“Are you okay?” Lance asked. 

“I, um, yea I'm fine,” the man said, blushing furiously as he wiped away his tears. 

“Really, are you okay? You were having quite the nightmare.”

The man took a shaky breath, “it’s fine.”

Lance frowned, “wanna talk about it?”

The man scowled, “I don't even know you, random stranger.”

“Well in that case, hi I'm Lance, but you can call me... anytime,” he introduced, smirking and making finger guns. 

“Keith,” the man muttered, ignoring Lance's outstretched hands.

Lance pulled his hands away. “Hey, sorry man. I was just trying to lighten the mood.”

“So…” Lance continued, “now that we know each other, want to tell what that was?” Lance asked, referring to Keith's previous unconscious state. 

“It's personal.”

Lance sighed. Making conversation was hard enough without the other person turning down any attempt to start one. But he wasn't about to give up now.


	3. 3

"So why are you flying to New York?" Lance questioned, eagerly awaiting a response. 

"Dance competition," Keith replied, still refusing to make eye contact. 

Lance lit up. "No way! Me too!" 

This is seemed to spark Keith's interest, even if only a bit. 

"Really? Where are you competing?" 

"Robertson's Convention Center. I have the address written down somewhere I can probably find--" Lance began, rummaging through his carry on bag. 

"No, no. I know where that is, or, I know what that place is. That's where I'm competing," Keith said. 

"Can't wait to see you on stage, Keith," Lance said, winking in the other boy's direction. This earned Lance a distasteful glare as Keith turned to face the window once again. 

Lance panicked. He had to keep the conversation going somehow. 

"U-uh, so what dance school are you with?" He asked, staring hopefully at the back of Keith's head, which was covered with hair long enough that Lance badly just wanted to tie it up in a ponytail. 

"Seattle School of Dance," Keith replied, still facing the window and sounding as unenthusiastic as ever. 

"Woah, isn't that school, like, super elite?" Lance gasped, discreetly pulling his phone from his pocket. 

"I guess so," Keith muttered, a soft rosy colour spreading across his cheeks. 

Using the plane's wifi, which Lance had (reluctantly) paid for, he googled Seattle School of Dance. 

Stifling a giggle he pushed the screen in Keith's line of view. 

"Is that you?" He asked, referring to the photograph of a dancer in the middle of a contemporary dance routine. This particular dancer wore bright makeup and a strikingly sleek ponytail, bearing an unmistakable resemblance to the boy Lance was now sitting next to. 

Keith slapped the phone away from his face. 

"So you're a contemporary dancer?" 

Keith turned to make eye contact, to Lance's surprise. He had a smug look on his face. 

"Contemporary, ballet, hip hop, jazz, tap and I've been told I'm a great ballroom dancer. You?"

Lance stuttered, taken aback by Keith's boastful confidence. 

"W-well all of those. And more, obviously. Yeah, probably some you haven't even heard of. Lots. Lots of dance."

Keith smiled at Lance's childish jealousy. 

"Perhaps I should put a word in for you at SSD, as you seem to be a master of all things dance." 

Lance grunted. This time it was his turn to look away bitterly and ignore the other. The truth was, he'd auditioned for SSD last year and been brutally rejected. As little as he liked to admit it, he was still quite touchy about that subject. After a few moments of silence Keith spoke up. 

"Hey, you never told me where you dance. " 

"I'm from Seattle too. It's some dance school you probably haven't heard of," Lance said, bitterness thick in his tone. 

With his 5 siblings, Lance's family had a hard enough time paying for the dance school he went to, nevermind some elite rich-kid school. Every year only one student was able to fly to New York to compete in nationals; this year it was Lance's turn. He was the oldest and easily the best, but he still couldn't compare to someone like Keith.

Lance found the silence between them excrutiatingly boring, but made no efforts to speak up. Instead it was his turn to slowly drift off to sleep. 

9 year old Lance

 

"Lance~" a singsong voice rang out.

Lance deciding to ignore it, sat down on the sand behind a barnacle-y rock. He had just been at the top of the 'cliff' looking for rocks, when he saw something shiny and deceived to come and check it out. He found himself smiling. He chuckled under his breath, trying not to laugh as he hid from the voice.

"Where are you, ma'ma wants us in now, it's gettin' dark" the voice was getting closer. He recognized the voice, one of his family members. 

'Course.

Lance quickly peeked over the rock to see which family member it was. He smiled once he saw, it was Jamie, his twin sister. She was wearing the dress Lance had got her for her birthday the previous day.

He sat down again quickly so she didn't catch him, almost hitting his face on the rock in the process. Something orange caught his eye, and his attention switched elsewhere. He watched as a small crab came out from under the rock. The little orange thing started to crawl towards the ocean. Lance started to mentally cheer the little sea creature on.

He whispered under his breath, "Don't worry little guy, the tide is coming in soon."

Lance could hear Jamie getting closer "Lance, I'm hungry, let's go in for dinner. Ma'ma's making your favourite American dish" She said, taunting him.

At that Lance's attention turned towards Jamie. Ma'ma is making burgers? 

I guess this 'hide and seek' is getting a little boring... But I totally won anyway so...

A childish grin spread across Lance's face as he made his decision. He stood up and called for Jamie who was looking the opposite direction. 

"Hey over here tiptoes."

She swung her head around to glare at him, hands on hips. "Lance I've been looking for your for like, half 'n hour." Her face turned to a pout as he started to walk over.

Lance, biting his tongue so he didn't say anything stupid to get his burger taken away. "Sorry" he let out a goofy smile, "let me just grab my bucket, it's at the top of the cliff." He said the last part faster. 

"What?! What were you doing up there, you know you're not allowed up there! It's dangerous!" She made the 'know' a little long than the rest of the words.

She looked at him distressed, "We should just get it in the morning with Mika."

Mika is their oldest sibling.   
That makes sense, he would be able to get to my bucket safely.   
Lance thought to himself. 

His mouth speaking against his better judgment, "No, it's fine, I can get it" He said as he dashed off into the little line of trees along the edge of the sand.

Hoping that Jamie didn't follow him, Lance ran faster, tripping over twigs almost hitting trees, jumping over little holes in the ground."

He slowed down once he thought he was a safe distance away from his sister.   
Lance saw his bucket in the distance. The sun now setting, making the forest a little darker. 

As Lance reached out to grab his bucket, he heard an earsplitting scream that made his blood curdle. 

Shivers ran up and down his back. He felt a tugging sensation in his gut.   
Something was wrong.

Lance, having long forgotten his bucket, ran towards the beach. Which was the direction the was scream heard.

"Jamie?!" Lance called out for his twin, "jAMIE!!" Lance panted as he ran. 

Tripping over a log and scratching his hands in the process, blood now gathering on his palms, he continued to run. 

Not knowing why he was running, or where, just made Lance more anxious to find his sister and make sure the screaming wasn't from her. He shivered as the memory of the scream replayed in his mind.

Lance jumped over a hole as the scream filled his ears again. 

"LANCE, HELP" 

jamie 

"WHERE ARE YOU?!" He cried out, tears threatening to fall.

"I-I FELL IN A HOLE" Jamie choked out, "I CAN'T MOVE"

Lance's face paled as he peered into the hole. 

He saw his sister at the bottom, sprawled out on the ground, bloody, bent and broken. Her body broken. She turned her towards him, tears falling.

"Hey, Lance.." her head and shoulders feel the ground, and her body went slack.

Lance froze, he needed Mika. 

Tears falling down his cheeks, and he ran.

 

\--   
this chapter is kinda short sorry //:  
btw this story is now being co-written by me (flimsybeth) hope u enjoy!!!   
also disclaimer i don't know any dance schools/competition centers so all the ones in this story are from my imagination, and if by coincidence they're actually real its entirely unintentional :)


	4. 4

c. by flimsybeth   
Lance's eyes felt heavy as he opened them for the first time in 3 hours. The plane had landed and all around him passengers rushed about, gathering luggage and herding children (for those who had them). Lance gave an obnoxious yawn, stretching his arm into the empty seat where Keith had been. Startled by the boy's absence, he stood up abruptly, seeing if he could spot Keith in the crowds moving towards the exit. 

Come on, I thought we bonded! Lance thought to himself, grumbling under his breath. He was only slightly hurt from being abandoned by Keith. Only slightly. 

Hoping to catch up with his plane-companion, Lance gathered his things and pushed towards the exit with the rest of the passengers. As he entered the airport he quickly scanned the crowds for a familiar face, or mullet, for that matter, as that was the first thing he spotted. 

"Keith! Hey Keith! Wait up, buddy," he called, dashing towards the boy who had begun to walk away from the luggage pick-up conveyer belt. 

Keith turned to face him with an unimpressed (and clearly annoyed) stare. 

"What do you want, Lance." 

Lance, in all his friendly enthusiasm, managed not to notice the pure dislike radiating from Keith in that moment. 

"Well, I was just thinking that--" 

"Whatever you want, just make it quick. I've got things to do and I have to meet my team at the hotel," Keith interrupted. 

"Can we exchange numbers?" Lance asked, pulling his phone from his pocket. 

Keith looked at him, puzzled. 

"Why?" 

"'Cause we're friends. Y'know... buddies, pals, bros... chums."

"Are we?" Keith questioned, raising an eyebrow. 

Lance crossed his arms, "You fell asleep on my shoulder, Keith." 

"Whatever," Keith muttered, grabbing Lance's phone and entering his number, simultaneously trying to hide the blush spreading across his face. Lance happily took his phone back. 

"I'll catch you later th--"

"Bye, Lance." 

Lance watched as the dark haired boy walked away. He frowned at the back of Keith's head, wondering how one being could contain so much bitterness. He looked down at his mobile phone, changing Keith's contact name to 'Queef' in an attempt to cheer himself up. Lance chuckled, mission accomplished. 

Keith's POV 

Keith strode away, blushing like mad. Of all the embarrassing things he's done in his life, falling asleep on, then crying infront of, a stranger was easily one of the worst. And still Lance insisted they be friends, which Keith felt was only a way of rubbing it in. He glanced over his shoulder before exiting the airport; Lance was smiling at his phone. Keith sighed, admiring the other boy's fantastic ability to constantly be in a good mood, an ability he'd lost years ago. 

Just as he was climbing into a taxi, his phone rang. 

"Here's the address, sir," he said, passing a piece of paper to the taxi driver, before answering the phone. 

It was Shiro, the team leader. He was also a ballet dancer (way better than Keith could ever dream to be), who usually competed in the ballet division with his dance partner, Allura. Shiro was the older than most of his peers at SSD. Most dancers in their mid twenties retired, or moved to a more professional dance academy in an even bigger city. He hoped to be scouted at the upcoming competition, but it was sometimes hard to stand out, even for someone like him. 

"Hey, Shiro." 

"Keith. Has your plane landed yet?" As the team 'captain' (something he often referred to himself as) Shiro was responsible for every dancer travelling to compete. He had to make sure they were all accounted for. Keith guessed he was one of the last to arrive. While the rest of his team flew first class on some big commercial airline, Keith simply couldn't afford it, so he'd managed to find the cheapest flight possible. The small, rickety, old-smelling plane was hardly worth his money, but it got him to New York in one piece, so it would have to do. 

"Yea. I'm in a taxi right now."

"Alright. See you soon."

\--


	5. 5

Lance sauntered towards the information desk. 

“Well hello there,” he said, winking at the lady sitting behind the desk. 

“How can I help you sir?” The woman asked, keeping her eyes on the computer screen in front of her. 

“I'm in need a of taxi to drive me to...” Lance peered down at his phone, reading from the a list of ‘New York's Most Expensive Hotels.’ “Cedarwood Heights Hotel.” (A/N this isn't a real hotel in NY just go with it ok). 

“Perhaps a limousine would suit you better,” the woman said, smirking at Lance, the poorly dressed 19-year-old boy standing in front of her. 

Lance felt his face flush. 

“N-no. A taxi will be just fine,” he stuttered, avoiding eye contact. How was he so bad at this?! 

“Very well then. I'll call one for you,” the woman said, picking up the phone sitting on her desk and dialling a few numbers. 

“Thanks,” Lance muttered, walking away quickly. He sat down and put his face in his hands, groaning. He'd learned never to trust a wikihow article again. 

His thoughts drifted to Keith once again. He wished Keith was still with him; New York was kind of scary when you were all alone. Lance had rarely even left his own state, nevermind venturing into a densely populated, unfamiliar city. He didn't know what sorts of weirdos he'd run into, and he wasn't eager to find out. His finger hovered over Keith's contact. Lance wanted to call him, badly, or text at least, but he didn't know what to say. “Hey Keith I'm horribly lonely and a scared little child please talk to me” didn't seem like the best approach. In a fit of frustration he turned off his phone and shoved it in his pocket. No more bitter emo boys, and no more being a scaredy-cat, Lance was going to do this on his own. 

A taxi pulled up outside the airport, signalling Lance to grab his luggage and head out. After climbing into the front seat the driver turned to him.

“Where ya off to today, kiddo?” 

“Robertson’s Convention Center,” Lance replied as the driver began to pull out of the airport parking lot. He assumed once he arrived at the competition center he'd just walk around until he found a hotel in the area, which in hindsight was not the best idea. During the long drive through insufferable New York traffic, Lance had given into temptation and pulled his phone out. It was certainly a weird position to be in, staring at the word ‘Queef.’ He sighed, mentally cursing himself for being so dependant on a stranger he’d met approximately 5 hours ago. 

Lance turned to look out the passenger seat window, observing the crowds walking down the sidewalks. It was a lot of people, and just the sight of it made Lance’s stomach twist. The only time he’d really seen so many people was when his family went to Seattle for whatever reason. Sure, that city was big, but it couldn’t quite compare to the awe of the Big Apple. Lance’s captivation was rudely interrupted by his phone buzzing rhythmically. For a heartbeat he hoped it was Keith calling him for who knows what reason, but when he looked down at the caller ID it was his mother. Even better?

“Hey mom!” He greeted, cheerfully. Immediately he could sense the worry in his mother’s voice. 

“Lance, it’s your mother. Has your plane landed yet? Did you arrive safely? Do you have all your luggage?” Lance chuckled as his beloved mother continued to bombard him with questions. 

“Ma, I’m fine. I’m in a taxi now, on my way to a hotel.” 

“Oh thank goodness, Lance. I should’ve sent Jamie with you like she asked, two is always better than one.” 

“And I’m also way more responsible don’t forget that ma,” rang out a voice in the background. Lance lit up at the sound of his twin sister’s voice. 

“You and I both know why Jamie couldn’t come, ma. We barely had enough extra funds to pay for my ticket,” Lance said, disappointment seeping into his tone. 

“It can’t be that hard to survive without electricity for a few weeks,” Jamie called out again. Lance’s mother laughed pitifully.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. Maybe next time,” his mother said.

“Well I should get going ma. Tell Ryan, Nathan and Leah I say hi.”

“Ok, Lance. Call me when you get to the hotel okay? Love you.” 

“K, ma.”

\--


	6. 6

The taxicab pulled up to a corner in an urban looking area. There was a large parking lot surrounding an even bigger building, which Lance guessed was Robertson's Convention Center. He thanked the cab driver, handing him a few bills from his wallet and began walking down the sidewalk. As he studied the buildings around him, he realized he probably should've found a hotel rather than aimlessly walking until he found one. He looked down at his phone to see if there was any free wifi in range. I just need a starbucks or something he thought to himself, feeling suddenly very lost in the huge city. 

Though Lance had managed to remain fairly calm while wandering hopelessly, his nerves began to grow as the sun threatened to set. It was almost 6, he was hungry, and the street lamps were beginning to turn on. The longer he walked, the fewer people passed him on the sidewalks, and the more alone he felt. Luckily there was a starbucks in sight, so at least he had a destination to reach. 

Entering the starbucks made Lance feel immediately at ease. The overwhelming smell of coffee filled his nose. He eyes glazed over the menu, his stomach growling at the food options. Lance reached into his back pocket to retrieve his wallet and order some supper for himself, and perhaps a warm drink. His heart sunk to the bottom of his stomach when he realized his pocket was empty. He was absolutely positive that he had put it in his pocket. On the off chance that he hadn't, Lance felt around the pockets in his hoodie. At least he still had his phone. Suddenly feeling desperate and panicked, he crouched down to open his suitcase, and then his backpack. He dug around over and over for at least 10 minutes. Finally he stopped, and the realization hit him. Someone had stolen his wallet. His credit card, his ID, his emergency funds (about 50$) all gone. 

"No no no no no," he muttered to himself, raking his hands through his hair. What was he going to do now? He had no money, no way to identify himself, nothing. He felt tears pricking at his eyes. No one had prepared him for this. Travelling on your own across the country was scary enough as it is, but this? This was the worst thing that could've happened to him. 

Lance pulled out his phone, thinking of his mother and sister. There was no way he was going to call him. His mother would be so angry, he'd probably never be allowed to leave the house, nevermind set foot on an airplane, ever again. Could he trust his dad to help him without telling his mom? Absolutely not. 

He stopped scrolling through his contacts. His finger was hovering over one familiar name. Queef. I should really change that Lance thought to himself, what was I thinking. In one swift movement he tapped on the 'call' button and held the phone to his ear. He held his breath as it rang once, twice, three times. 

"Hello?" 

Lance beamed. 

"Keith! It's Lance."

"Lance...? Oh, airplane guy?" he asked. Lance chuckled.

"No, you're airplane guy. I'm handsome cuban man, with a very comfortable shoulder apparently." Even though Keith couldn't see Lance, you could practically hear him smirking. 

Keith grunted. 

"So... we're friends right?" Lance asked.

"According to you," Keith muttered. Lance ignored him.

"Anyways, mullet. I need your help," he said, sounding a lot cheerier than one should sound in his situation. 

"Mullet? I thought I was airplane guy," Keith said, his voice dripping with annoyance. 

"Whatever. I need help. I..." Lance paused. No matter how he said this, he couldn't avoid sounding like an idiot. "I think I lost my wallet." 

There was a moment of silence. 

"You... you what!?" Keith burst. 

"Uh... yeah," Lance confirmed, sheepishly. 

"Oh my god," Keith muttered, probably shaking his head. "So you don't have any money or ID or anything? Are you at a hotel right now?" 

"No, I'm in a starbucks."

Keith sighed loudly. "I can't believe I'm helping you. Alright, go outside and tell me what street you're at, and I'll see what we can do from there." 

"Okay, I'm at Louis St." There was a pause as Keith typed on a keyboard. 

"Oh, okay. Is that the one next to the Staples?" He asked. 

Lance glanced across the street, catching sight of the building the other boy was referring to. "Yes siree."

"Hey, that's actually not too far from my hotel. Just walk down Gold St, turn left at Michael Road and keep walking until you find Thompson Hotel." 

"Sound's great! Thanks Keith," Lance said, smiling. He was about to hang up when Keith's voice sounded once again.

"Um... c-can you, uh, maybe stay on the line? J-just until you get here, so if you get mugged or something I can call 911 right away." Keith's voice was shaky and nervous. Lance blushed at his request. The thought of Keith wanting to keep talking to him, even if it was just so that he didn't die, caught Lance a bit off guard. 

"Y-yeah. Sure."  

 

\--


	7. Chapter 7

Keith was sat in the the lobby of the hotel, sat in one of the chairs that lined the walls. He kept his eyes on the glass entrance, patiently awaiting the arrival of a boy he'd met only today. As much Keith tried to maintain the cold-hearted, lone wolf persona, there was no way he was going to get out of helping Lance without feeling like the worst person in the world. Maybe it was Lance's friendliness, or maybe Keith really did have some humanity left in him. 

"So... you lost your wallet, huh?" Keith attempted to keep the conversation going as he remained on the phone with Lance. Keith was definitely not the most socially-gifted, and this sudden need for social interaction made him completely rethink his generosity. Was helping out a poor friend (friend?) really worth the effort it took to keep up a conversation. He prayed that the talkative personality Lance wore on the plane would resurface here, making it much easier for him. 

"I think it got stolen. I put it in my back pocket when I got out of the taxi, and I feel kind of stupid for doing that now, but anyways I was walking around looking for, like, a hotel, or somewhere to stay. I didn't plan it beforehand, I was kind of hoping I could just wing it. Which in hindsight, was a horrible idea," Lance rambled on. Keith relaxed into his chair. He much preferred listening than talking. Whenever he talked, things never seemed to work out the way he wanted them to. 

"So I'd been walking for about an hour and a half I think and I finally found a starbucks, which totally doesn't seem right by the way. I think I must've been walking in circles, cuz there's no way it takes an hour and a half to find a starbucks in the middle of a city. But anyways, when I found one I was so hungry from all that walking and when I went to pull out my wallet and buy something, it wasn't there!"

"And then you called me," Keith interrupted. 

"Yeah! Thanks again by the way," Lance said, relief seeping into his voice.

"Don't mention it," Keith replied, taken aback by the fondness in his tone. Keith had met people like Lance before. They were the kind of people who made small talk with cashiers at the grocery store and complimented strangers on the bus, A.K.A the type of person Keith did not associate with. And yet, Lance didn't repulse him. Sure, he had at first, as most people do, but he never did anything to earn Keith's friendship (had he earned it?). 

While Keith was trying to rationalize his feelings, Lance continued babbling.

"And get this, my mom had just called me when I got out of the taxi. She was so worried about me, and at that point I thought she was silly. I was like, ma, c'mon, I'm responsible, I've got this. Then less than an hour I lose my wallet?! God, I really am an idiot." 

Keith chuckled at that. 

"Wha--wait, are you agreeing with me? How dare you. I can't believe this," Lance said, feigning offense. Keith laughed again. 

"Can you blame me? You lost your damn wallet in a city over 2000 miles away from home." 

Lance sighed defeatedly. "Thanks for reminding me." 

There were a few moments of silence then. Keith began to panic a bit, wracking his brain for something to say.

Luckily, Lance spoke up again. "I'm so dead, Keith. I was so ready to prove my mom wrong. It was going to be the perfect "I told you so" moment. Now, if she ever finds out, I'll never be allowed to leave the house without her again. Ugh, moms are so protective." 

Keith remained silent. Parents, and just family in general, wasn't usually a topic he could relate to the same way everyone else could. While Lance complained about his helicopter of a mother, Keith couldn't help but wish for exactly that. What he wouldn't give to have her back, the mother he had before 'that' happened. Stop it, Keith, he warned himself, now is not the time.

Instead, he muttered a quiet, "yeah," to avoid the impending awkwardness. 

"Hey, is that you?" 

Keith's eyes snapped up to the doors of the hotel, away from his fingernails, which he'd been quite focused on for the past few minutes. Outside stood a familiar, tall, tanned, brown-haired figure. Lance was smiling, looking as happy as one could when they've just lost their wallet. Keith felt the corners of his mouth curve upwards; it was almost involuntary. 

"Yeah, it is."

\--


	8. 8

Keith held the door open for Lance as he stepped in, pulling his suitcase behind him. 

"So what's the plan, oh wise one?" Lance asked, seeming awfully cheery for the circumstances. Keith felt a rush of heat flow up his neck to his face.

"Th-there was a bit of a mix-up, so I'm in a two-bed room by myself. You can stay with me temporarily... I guess. Only if you want to, though," Keith rambled. 

"Sounds good to me," Lance said, already walking towards the elevator. 

"Wait--Lance!" Keith called, meeting Lance's blue eyes when he swivelled around. He had a curious look on his face. Keith continued.

"My room is on the first floor," he finished. At this, Lance noticeably sagged. 

"That's lame," he mumbled, just loud enough for Keith to hear. 

"Stop whining, oh my god," Keith muttered. Behind him, Lance gave a sharp sigh, and followed him down the hallway. 

Keith pushed open the door to his room, immediately greeted with the distinct smell of hotels. Inside there were two queen-sized beds and a door on the other side leading to the bathroom. There wasn't a lot of space for privacy, but if he found the need to, he could always just trap Lance in the bathroom. 

Across from the two beds was a single widescreen TV. Keith began to consider the disadvantages of having a roommate, not that he hadn't already, but there were just so, so many. He made a mental note to hide the remote. 

Lance dropped his suitcase on the bed farthest from the entrance and let his face fall into the pillows. 

"Make yourself at home," Keith grunted, feeling a familiar bitterness towards this strange boy who'd so happily invaded Keith's space. (Although, Keith had invited him in the first place, so technically he was to blame.)

"I'm so tired," Lance groaned, his face still pressed into his pillow.

"You can't go to sleep yet, Lance. We still have to contact the authorities about your lost wallet," Keith reminded. Watching Lance relax into the covers of the bed made Keith realize that he too was quite exhausted. They'd both just gotten off a five-hour flight, and Lance had been walking around for who knows how long. 

"Can't we just deal with that tomorrow," Lance pleaded, lifting his head from the pillow to sit up and take his shoes off. 

"That doesn't sound like a very good idea to me, Lance," Keith scolded, still astounded by this boy's irritating childishness. 

"Do I look like someone who knows the difference between a good idea and a bad one?" Lance questioned, gesturing to himself in wild hand movements. Keith smirked a little at that. 

"No, you certainly do not." 

Lance huffed, falling back onto the bed, staring at the ceiling. 

"It's settled then, I'm going to sleep." 

Keith sighed, harbouring no more energy to argue with Lance any longer. Instead he sat on his own bed, slipping in some earbuds and listening to the backtracks of his routines. He always choreographed his dance routines heavily based on the dynamics of the music he chose. This way, the better he knew the song, the better he knew his routine. It made for a more seamless performance, and proved to be quite a good strategy. 

Keith peered at Lance from the corner of his eye. His chest was rising and falling in an even, continuous pattern. Lance's eyes were closed gently, his hair splayed messily across his forehead. There were heavy bags under his eyes. Keith guessed he was a stay-up-til-3am-sleep-til-noon kind of guy. Generally Keith was a bit of a night owl, but definitely an early-riser; early bird gets the worm, after all. He survived on little sleep, but that was fine for him. 

A sudden knock on the door shook Keith out of his drowsy state. He ripped his eyes away from the sleeping Lance (where he'd been looking for a worrying amount of time) and jumped up to get the door. 

"Shiro!" He greeted. 

"Hey Ke--" Shiro paused, squinting his eyes at the room behind Keith. "Is there a boy in there? Keith we've only been here for like 3 hours, how did you ev--"

Keith pushed Shiro into the hallway, closing the door behind him (softly).

"No no no, it's not what you think," Keith stammered, blushing at Shiro's assumption. "He was just some guy I met--a friend--he needed help and I just, I thought that I should, you see..." 

Shiro held up his hand, signalling Keith to stop his pathetic attempt at an explanation.

"I get it, don't worry. I just wanted to let you know the team's meeting at the food court in the mall over there for dinner, attendance is optional," Shiro said, giving Keith a gentle smile. 

"Oh, yeah, okay. I'll be there." 

"Great! See you in a bit," he said, waving as he walked away. Keith stepped back into the room. Lance was still sleeping, having rolled over. Keith sighed, grabbing a sticky note and scribbling his whereabouts onto it. He left it on the bedside table for Lance, should he wake up. 

Keith walked into the lobby, joining the group of eight other people, all people from SSD, and all people he never got to know that well. Keith was a soloist. He never did duets, ever. Occasionally he would agree to small group routines, but he never felt that he fit very well. Of course he was a part of the large, group dances, but truly he much preferred dancing on his own. 

"Hey, Keith." Then again, loners tended to gravitate towards each other.

"Hey, Pidge," he said, smiling at the familiar face. Pidge, or Katie, as she was rarely called these days, was a part of a the Holt family line. Her older brother, Matt, was the same age as Shiro, and a legendary street dancer. Pidge took after her brother in that way. Her parents had originally wanted her to be in ballet, but never even managed to get the pointe shoes on her feet. She, very clearly, had other plans. 

While Matt and Pidge were very close as siblings, Matt liked to hang out with some of the older dancers, leaving Pidge to spend her time with Keith, which she swore wasn't just out of pity. 

"How's your first day in New York going?" She asked, halfheartedly. 

Keith took a deep breath. 

\--


	9. 9

Lance felt warm at last. The covers were wrapped tightly around his frame, providing a comfortable cocoon where he felt safe. He'd been sleeping peacefully for the last 6 hours or so, only to be rudely awakened.

An angry figure hovered over his bed, shaking his shoulders violently.

"Wake the hell up, Lance!" It shouted. 

Lance blinked groggily, it was still dark in the room which didn't help at all with his disorientation. He sat up slowly, finally recognizing the figure as Keith.

"Can I help you?" he asked, yawning. Only then did he hear a loud ringing coming from an object in Keith's hand.

"Your phone's been ringing for the past 10 minutes," he hissed. His voice was tired and scratchy, but somehow still intimidating. 

"What time is it?" Lance asked, yawning again. 

"It's 3am, I'm trying to sleep," Keith whisper-shouted, clearly furious. 

"Why is my phone ringing at 3am," Lance wondered, mostly directing the question to himself. 

"That's what I want to know!" Keith threw the phone at Lance and crossed his arms, "now answer it or find somewhere else to sleep."

Lance picked up the phone and felt his heart drop.

"Oh god, it's my mom," he said, giving a panicked look to Keith. Keith stared back with a coldness in his eyes. He had no capacity for sympathy at that moment, the only thing he wanted was sleep. 

"Answer it!" He demanded. 

Lance pressed the receive button on his phone and held it to his ear. 

"Mama... it's 3am," Lance muttered. 

"Lance! Why didn't you call me? I've been worried sick. I could barely sleep at all last night. Are you at a hotel now? You're not sleeping on the streets are you? I thought you'd lost your phone or something. I've been trying to call you for so long now, why haven't you ans--" Lance's mother went on until he broke in 

"Because it's 3am!" He exclaimed. His mother went silent for a few seconds. 

"Oh... but you found a hotel?"

Lance sighed tiredly, "Yes ma..." 

"Okay then! Sleep well, my love," his mother cooed. Lance groaned and hung up, throwing his face into his pillow. 

Keith hovered over Lance. Satsified with Lance's silence he turned back towards his own bed.

"Don't sleep like that all night; you could suffocate," he said, watching Lance's face press into the pillow. "Or do," he added with a smirk.

Lance flipped him off and rolled over to lie on his side, facing away from Keith. Feeling victorious, Keith took a step towards his own bed. Despite his agility and grace during the day, apprently his spacial awareness was not the same the dark. He felt a stabbing pain spread through his leg via his big toe. A burst of sound erupted from his throat as he began shouting profanities like they could ease the pain. 

Lance had rolled over at the sound of Keith's foot colliding with the bed frame. After the few seconds it took for Lance's tired brain to process what had happened he began laughing hysterically. 

Keith paused his frantic hopping to cradle his injured toe and glare at Lance in the dark. He felt his face heating up and thanked the universe that the other boy couldn't see his obvious blush.

After Lance's laughter had partially subsided, he pretended to wipe a tear from his face.

"Oh my god, dude. I'm never going to forget that," he said, and started laughing again. Keith had now retreated into the covers of his bed and resorted to glaring menacingly at the ceiling, anything to avoid making eye contact with Lance. In response to his statement Lance received a powerfully thrown pillow in his face. Unfortunately for Keith, this only made him laugh harder.

"I hate you with a passion," he said coolly. 

"Suuure you do," Lance replied between giggles. Keith groaned, eagerly willing the heat on his face to subside. Every minute that Lance continued laughing was infuriating for Keith. Sometimes the laughter would die down, and then erupt again, almost louder. After a considerable amount of time, Lance had yet to stop laughing. Keith rolled over to look at him, fighting the small smile that was threatening to creep onto his face.

"Really Lance? Is it that funny?" he asked skeptically. Lance met his eyes for a moment and then burst into laughter again. Keith felt a laugh build at the bottom of his throat. He tried with all his might to fight it, but Lance's laughter was hopelessly contagious. He gave a few restrained chuckles and sighed into his hands. Lance's giggles seemed to deplete slightly; Keith squinted at him.

"Are you crying?" He asked incredulously.

Lance met his eyes. "A good laugh will do that to you sometimes." He gave a deep sigh, which Keith matched with one of his own. Lance wiped at his eyes and settled into his pillow. 

"Goodnight Queef."

"What did you just call me?" 

~


	10. quick reminder

⚠️ we are on chapter 22.5 on wattpad under the username “quiznak” if you want to read “Purple/ Klance” there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> first chapter is short, but i assure you the next ones are longer.  
> keep in mind that i started this fanfiction in the summer of 2016, the story’s writing style improves over time.


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